


Snake-Up Call

by douleias



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Awake the Snake (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hugs, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), but the footnotes took me long enough to format that i'm just posting it now, literally pure fluff, ok look i'm rereading this and it's literally so bad, self indulgent nonsense, sorry in advance and enjoy!, they're not officially in a relationship yet but trust me they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26772592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/douleias/pseuds/douleias
Summary: Crowley blinked an eye open to see an angel glowing back at him. Not glowering, though he was doing that too. No, Aziraphale was literally glowing like some oddly-shaped, particularly wrathful lamp, vibrating slightly and radiating what appeared to be the righteous light of the Lord. Quite understandably, Crowley closed the eye again and tried to return to the very nice dream he was having.-It's October. Aziraphale thinks it's about time for Crowley to wake up.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 72





	Snake-Up Call

**Author's Note:**

> completely self-indulgent nonsense written for awake the snake because as much as i admire and respect neil gaiman, i simply refuse to let crowley go back to sleep. his angel misses him. rip to mr gaiman but i'm different

“Crowley.”

“Whu?” Crowley blinked an eye open to see an angel glowing back at him. Not glowering, though he was doing that too. No, Aziraphale was literally glowing like some oddly-shaped, particularly wrathful lamp, vibrating slightly and radiating what appeared to be the righteous light of the Lord. Quite understandably, Crowley closed the eye again and tried to return to the very nice dream he was having. Something about fluffy sheep with wings. [1]  
  
“Anthony J. Crowley.” 

Crowley could see the glow intensify even from behind his eyelids and the room suddenly became considerably warmer. He made an inarticulate noise that sounded a bit like a creaky door and hoped that would be enough to make it go away.

A long-suffering sigh. “You brought this on yourself, dear boy.” At once there was a violent tug on the many layers of blankets piled upon Crowley’s body, while - quite cruelly, in Crowley’s opinion - the pillow was yanked out from underneath his head. Wrapped too tightly in the blankets to escape the assault, Crowley flailed uselessly for a bit before the momentum took him over the side of the bed, landing with an unceremonious thump on the floor. He opened his eyes again to squint-glare at the angel looming over him.

“What the fu -“

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Aziraphale beamed, as if it was a pleasant surprise and he hadn’t just thrown Crowley out of bed. 

“Hhhhrgh,” said Crowley, and wondered whether the floor might be comfortable enough to squeeze in a few more minutes. Almost against his own volition, his eyes began to drift shut again. He could almost hear the gentle flapping of sheep’s wings -

“Oh no you don’t.” 

There were suddenly angelic hands under his armpits, hauling him upright from his previously horizontal position. Crowley wobbled, nearly toppling over before Aziraphale’s grip tightened on his shoulders to keep him in place. The angel’s body was much closer and much warmer than it had been before, heat radiating from the points where his hands made contact with Crowley’s shoulders, separated only by a thin layer of fabric. Aziraphale’s hands crept down ever so slightly to brush against the bare skin of Crowley’s arms, and oh yes, Crowley was wide awake now.

He blinked several times in rapid succession, a rare occurrence given that he was used to blinking about twice every couple of days. He cleared his throat. He briefly considered, then ruled out, the idea that he might be hallucinating (his hip still ached too much from where he’d hit the floor). 

Then: “‘ziraphale?”

“Hello,” said Aziraphale, unnecessarily, and smiled. It was almost blinding from up this close. Crowley blinked again.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Er.” Aziraphale opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I - that is to say - you said you would be setting your alarm for October.”

“I did,” Crowley said. “I woke up. I called you.”

“Well,” Aziraphale said, then stopped.

“I asked you how everything was going, you said it was still crap, so I said right, won’t hurt to go for a few more months then, and then you didn’t say anything so I went back to sleep.”

“I didn’t say ‘crap’,” said Aziraphale, somehow managing to convey air quotes around the word despite not moving his hands from Crowley’s shoulders (and that was quite interesting, actually, his hands still on Crowley’s shoulders, but Crowley tried not to think about it because he knew if he did he might spontaneously combust). “I said that though, perhaps, the case numbers aren’t the most promising, we aren’t technically in lockdown...”

“Yet.”

“Well. Yes.” Aziraphale visibly floundered for a moment, then rallied. “Oh, but Crowley, we can have ‘support bubbles’ now! Isn’t that nice?”

Crowley just stared at him, and Aziraphale’s shoulders slumped. “If you must know, I missed you,” he said, rather wretchedly. 

“Oh,” said Crowley softly.

Aziraphale wasn’t done. “You see, first you said July, and I’d thought, well, that’s only a couple of months, we’ve gone centuries without seeing each other before, won’t be a problem. And then you said October, and that was dreadfully disappointing, especially since the restrictions were starting to lift and we would have been able to see each other without having to worry about breaking any rules, but I thought, right Aziraphale old boy, patience is a virtue, only a few months to go. But then when we spoke on the phone you implied that you were going to go back to sleep, again, and you didn’t even say you were setting an alarm this time, and you started _snoring_ before I could think of how I might convince you otherwise and that, quite frankly, was intolerable.” 

At some point in the middle of his rant he’d stepped away from Crowley in order to gesticulate widely, nearly taking out the extremely bemused succulent on Crowley’s bedside table. Crowley placed it safely on the floor to give his hands something to do, trying not to show on his face how much he regretted the sudden loss of contact.

Aziraphale paused for a much-needed breath and Crowley cut in. “Hang on, though, you were the one who wouldn’t let me come over to the bookshop before!” He pointed a finger at the angel. “All that stuff about, about ‘rules’, and ‘setting an example’, and -“ he mimicked Aziraphale’s plummy accent - “‘out of the question, dear fellow, I’ll see you when this is all over.’”

“I don’t sound like that,” Aziraphale said reflexively, sounding exactly like that. Then he mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “I was hoping you might come over anyway.”

“You what?”

“I said, I was hoping you might come over anyway!”

Crowley raised an eyebrow.

“Well, as an angel, I couldn’t be seen to be... condoning such actions. It simply wouldn’t do. I had a _duty_ to refuse, you understand. But if _you,_ a demon, were - hypothetically - to _refuse my refusal,_ and to break the rules anyway - which, I might remind you, is in fact part of your - _their_ \- job description - well, that would be a different case entirely...” 

Ridiculous. Crowley was in love with the most ridiculous being ever created, no rare feat considering that God had created the platypus and the hallucinogenic mushroom. He shook his head, unable to stop himself from huffing out a laugh. “Angel, you could’ve just _asked_. Our own side, remember? None of that angel and demon bullshit. Not anymore.” 

On an impulse, he reached out to nudge Aziraphale’s hand with his own, and felt his heart give a great big kangaroo leap inside his chest when the angel reached back and laced their fingers together. [2]

“It would’ve been… I’d have liked it,” Crowley admitted quietly. “If you’d asked.”

“I know,” said Aziraphale. “I know that now. But I panicked, in the moment. And by the time I came to my senses and might have been able to do anything about it, it was too late.” He took a deep breath and squeezed Crowley’s hand. “So here I am now. Asking.”

Crowley laughed out loud this time. “You call that asking? You pushed me out of bed.”

“In my defense,” said Aziraphale, “it was more of a forceful _roll_ than a push. Besides, you weren’t being very cooperative.” 

“S’pose not,” Crowley conceded. “Well, I’m awake now. So what exactly are you asking me, Aziraphale?”

He was giving Aziraphale an out, and from the way the angel’s eyes widened he knew he’d realised it too. He could still say something about only wanting to check up on Crowley and, that being accomplished, proceed to disappear back into his bookshop, leaving Crowley to his disappointment and another months-long nap. To be honest, Crowley was half expecting it. 

But instead Aziraphale took a deep, bracing breath, looked right into Crowley’s uncovered eyes and said, “I’m asking whether you might want to come back to the bookshop with that case of something drinkable you’d mentioned last time. And, in the highly likely case that there is another lockdown, whether you might want to spend it in the bookshop. With me. And...” 

Crowley noted, with a hint of delight, that Aziraphale’s cheeks were growing increasingly pink. “Spit it out, angel.”

Aziraphale’s abashed gaze went first to the floor, then to the ceiling, then took a pleasant little stroll around the room before finally settling back on Crowley. “I was wondering if I might be able to. Er. Give you a hug?” Then, more quietly: “I really did miss you these last few months you know."

Crowley swallowed, wondering, not for the first time, if this wasn’t just a dream. Here was Aziraphale, plump and beautiful in his fussy waistcoat and bow-tie, gazing up at him with painfully earnest hazel eyes, his fluffy blond hair slightly longer than usual and curling just past his ears. Cheeks flushed and even softer than Crowley had remembered. And he was asking Crowley to keep him company. To stay with him. To hug him, even. It had been _centuries_ since Crowley had gotten to hug Aziraphale.

“Y-yeah. ‘Course you can,” said Crowley, and Aziraphale smiled like Crowley had just given him the most wonderful gift in the world. He stepped forwards and wrapped his arms gently around Crowley’s waist.

Oh. Huh. That was new. But... good. It was good. Crowley leaned into it gingerly [3], his arms coming round to cradle Aziraphale’s back while he let his head rest against Aziraphale’s shoulder. He breathed in the achingly familiar old-books-and-cocoa scent of him and, against his will, felt himself smiling soppily against the fabric of the angel’s well-loved coat. Unable to resist, he reached up to grasp one of Aziraphale’s curls and tugged, fighting back a grin as he watched it bounce back into place. 

“Fiend,” huffed Aziraphale, not letting go.

“Angel,” said Crowley contentedly, holding him tighter.

It had to end eventually, of course. Aziraphale stepped neatly back, leaving Crowley’s arms woefully bereft of plump angel - but the fond smile aimed at him made the loss somewhat more bearable.

“So. That trip to the bookshop…?” Aziraphale looked up at Crowley through his eyelashes, practically fluttering them, as he patted down his slightly rumpled waistcoat. Crowley pretended to mull it over for a moment before he snapped his fingers, replacing his t-shirt and boxers with his customary shirt, jacket, tie, and hellishly tight trousers. A pair of sunglasses appeared in his hand and he placed them on his nose, though not before he gave the angel a wink which he hoped looked suave and roguish but suspected looked more like the starting paroxysms of a stroke. (Though, gratifyingly, the angel did blush.)

“I could be tempted,” Crowley drawled, and offered Aziraphale his arm.

“Oh, you wily serpent,” Aziraphale said affectionately, and took it. 

**Author's Note:**

> [1]: For inexplicable reasons, a considerable number of the sheep were wearing bow-ties. [return to text]
> 
> [2]: This is not metaphorical in the slightest. You see, Crowley’s internal organs (as well as his muscles and bones) had no need to follow the regular laws of human anatomy, and had thus developed some unruly habits throughout the many millennia on Earth. His heart had a tendency, when he was excited or anxious, to bounce up and down like a pogo stick. His kidneys occasionally, when they were particularly bored, would clap together like a pair of rather meaty cymbals. And as for his spine… well, the less said about that the better. [return to text]
> 
> [3]: And not just because he was a redhead. [return to text]


End file.
